Zeroth frowned as he stared out into the coliseum where the ethereal form of himself had just disappeared. It was unsettling to see a perfect replica of himself fade into nothingness, like the gods were toying with him in ways he didn’t fully understand.
“Bloody showboaters,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the haft of his axe for a sense of stability. The gods always seemed to enjoy their theatrics—though for mortals like him, it was more unnerving than awe-inspiring. He turned his gaze over his shoulder, drawn to the sight of Vulcanix and Pyronox standing a few feet away. The pair appeared locked in some silent, fiery communion. The flames that composed their forms pulsed and flared in what he could only assume was some kind of divine language. It was unsettling. He couldn’t help but wonder if Pyronox was being reprimanded or praised—or if Vulcanix was simply reminding his creation who held dominion here.
What are they even talking about? Zeroth thought, trying to piece together any meaning from the shifting intensity of the flames. It was frustrating, being so close to beings of incredible power yet constantly feeling like an outsider in their world. A pawn on their board. After a few moments, he grew tired of being ignored. He cleared his throat loudly, in an exaggeratedly sarcastic manner, and was rewarded when both Vulcanix and Pyronox flared in unison, their attention snapping toward him as though remembering he existed. The sheer intensity of their gaze—even Vulcanix’s burning skull—made him instinctively square his shoulders, though his heart hammered in his chest.
“Well, now that I’ve got your attention,” he said with forced bravado, “do either of you have any info on those other alliances? Y’know, the ones we’re going to be fighting?”
Vulcanix’s molten hand swatted the question away dismissively, the gesture surprisingly casual for someone who could incinerate armies with a flick of his wrist. “Do not worry yourself over that at this moment, dwarf,” Vulcanix said, his tone carrying both irritation and authority. He turned toward the darkened corridor they had come from. “We still have a few more… formalities to attend.”
Zeroth let out an audible sigh and followed reluctantly, giving Pyronox a light nudge as he passed. Pyronox didn’t respond, his focus still seemingly split between Vulcanix and whatever storm of thoughts brewed in his own fiery head. Zeroth frowned slightly as he trailed behind them. How is he handling this? Being so close to the one who created him? He couldn’t tell if Pyronox was conflicted or simply stoic by nature. Either way, the tension in the air was palpable, and Zeroth was practically shitting himself having to tiptoe around gods. Sure, he had power now, but gods weren’t like mortals. They didn’t need to play fair, and Vulcanix wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence.
The dark stone corridors seemed to twist endlessly as they walked, the silence broken only by the soft echoes of their footsteps. Zeroth began to feel a faint vibration in the air, a kind of resonance that hummed against his skin. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before.
“What’s this strange energy, big guy? I’m sure you can feel it too,” Zeroth asked, quickening his steps to match Vulcanix’s.
“That,” Vulcanix said, his voice almost reverent, “would be the others. Gods, their champions, power mixing and dispersing in one place. It’s intoxicating if you know how to listen.”
The corridor opened into a large, imposing door of dark wood, its edges inlaid with veins of glowing obsidian. Vulcanix stopped before it, placing a hand on the carved surface. “This will be the next formality. You mortals would call it a banquet. I call it a farce. But use this time wisely, dwarf. Learn. Observe.”
Zeroth raised an eyebrow, hesitating. “So what, we’re supposed to play nice now and in a day’s time start tearing each other apart? Seems a bit… contradictory, doesn’t it?”
Vulcanix laughed, a deep, booming sound that reverberated down the corridor. “Yes, and it will be glorious. Now…” He turned and slapped Zeroth firmly on the back, sending the dwarf stumbling forward as a rush of molten energy surged through his body. “Let’s make a statement.”
Zeroth caught himself against the doorframe, glancing down to see his body growing, morphing as Vulcanix’s power activated. His short, stocky frame expanded into something massive, his height nearly matching Vulcanix’s towering form. Flames licked at his shoulders, and he let out a sharp exhale as smoke puffed from his lips. His head was still unmistakably his own, but everything else screamed godlike intimidation.
He turned his now-flaming head to Vulcanix, brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s the deal with this?”
Vulcanix crossed his molten arms, a almost lighthearted glint in his flaming eyes. “We are here to make an impression. Even if we don’t see eye-to-eye, you and I are not to be trifled with. That may be your power now, but it’s my legacy. Use it to show these fools what they’re up against.”
Zeroth sighed. Great. I’m an eight-foot flaming intimidation tactic. He frowned as he adjusted his towering frame outside the grand doors of the banquet hall, the edges of his fiery god form faintly lighting the dark stone corridor. Pyronox stood at his side, his glowing eyes scanning the intricate carvings on the door, while Vulcanix loomed slightly ahead, his molten form radiating quiet authority.
The faint hum of mingling voices seeped through the doors, and Zeroth couldn’t help but feel a mix of unease and curiosity.
“So, this is the grand banquet, huh?” he muttered, glancing at Pyronox, who remained silent, his fists clenching and unclenching with nervous energy.
Vulcanix turned slightly, his fiery eyes narrowing at Zeroth. “It is more than a feast, dwarf. This is where power is postured, alliances tested, and intentions laid bare. Do not embarrass me.”
Zeroth grunted. “Yeah, yeah, scare the peasants, I get it. Though, to be fair, I think you do that naturally.”
Pyronox let out a low rumble that might have been a chuckle, and Vulcanix raised a smoldering hand toward the doors. “Enough chatter. Time to make our presence known.”
With a push, the heavy stone and obsidian doors groaned open, revealing the vast expanse of the banquet hall. Zeroth’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. The hall was massive, its arched ceilings disappearing into darkness above. Enchanted chandeliers floated midair, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated the tables arranged in an intricate pattern. Each alliance had a designated table, and the deities themselves sat on raised platforms overlooking their champions. Vulcanix’s table stood apart, an imposing solitary space near Zeroth’s alliance’s table.
Zeroth couldn’t help but notice the eyes that turned toward them as they entered. A palpable tension filled the air as champions and gods alike observed their entrance. Even among the divine, Vulcanix’s presence commanded attention.
As they stepped forward, Vulcanix gestured for Zeroth and Pyronox to follow closely. “Remember, dwarf, this is not merely for food. This is for domination.”
Zeroth sighed. “You keep saying that like I have a clue how to play politics. I’m more of a ‘smash things’ kind of guy.”
Vulcanix grunted in amusement. “Then smash them with your presence.”
Before he could retort, the familiar figure of Grimbli’s hovering stone form emerged from his waistband. “By my beard! This place is as gaudy as I remember,” Grimbli muttered, his gravelly voice tinged with regret. “I should’ve added a few more collapsible pillars. Could’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.”
Zeroth raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying you built this place as well?”
Grimbli scoffed. “Aye. One could say it was a package deal."
Vulcanix turned his molten gaze toward Grimbli and let out a booming laugh. “How quaint.”
Before Grimbli could respond, a shimmering, golden light filled the hall. All eyes turned toward the battlefield in the center as a colossal, ethereal form began to manifest. Aeonis’s projection floated above the ground, radiating authority. His towering presence silenced the room, his glowing eyes scanning every table.
“Champions and deities,” Aeonis’s voice boomed, resonating through the air like a divine chorus. “The time has come to address what lies ahead.”
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Zeroth felt a chill run through him despite his fiery form as Aeonis continued. “Three alliances stand before us. First, the Alliance of Vulcanix, led by Zeroth, champion of fire and conquest.” Zeroth barely caught the faint whooping of Tingle from his table, causing him to smirk despite himself.
“Second, the Alliance of Terraana, led by Aunrae, champion of nature and balance.” Zeroth’s gaze flicked toward Aunrae’s table, where the druid sat with her leshy familiar perched on her shoulder, her serene expression masking an unshakable resolve.
“And third, the Alliance of Morvash, led by Ralgar, champion of corruption and chaos.” The mention of Morvash sent a ripple of unease through the room. Zeroth caught sight of Ralgar’s table, where the kobold sat flanked by his ominous allies, a sinister grin splitting his scaled face.
Aeonis paused, his gaze sweeping over the gathered champions. “The Godswar is a trial of might, strategy, and survival. The rules are simple: alliances may form or break as they see fit, but in the end, only one alliance—or champion—shall stand victorious. Prepare yourselves, for this is a test not just of power, but of resolve.”
As Aeonis’s form began to fade, the room erupted into murmurs and quiet conversations. Vulcanix leaned toward Zeroth, his voice low. “Remember, dwarf. Power commands respect. Show them what we’re made of.”
Zeroth nodded, his fiery gaze scanning the room. The tension was palpable, the stakes undeniable.
After nodding to his alliance's deities, Zeroth made his way to his alliance and sat between Ardric and Tingle, still adjusting to his massive godform. His usual four-foot stature replaced by an imposing eight feet of molten muscle made him feel more conspicuous than intimidating. Every time he leaned forward to grab a tankard of ale or adjust his seat, Tingle and Ardric, squished on either side of him, had to shuffle awkwardly to avoid being nudged by his fiery bulk.
“Could you not burn my cloak?” Tingle muttered, brushing away an ember that landed near his shoulder. “Tingle worked hard to enchant this, you know.”
“Sorry,” Zeroth grunted, staring awkwardly into his drink. Socializing with his friends was one thing, but navigating this banquet filled with champions and gods was far beyond his comfort zone.
Before anyone could say more, a shadow moved at the edge of the table. Zeroth looked up to see a tall, graceful figure striding toward them. She was clad in a mix of green and brown leather armor and robes that seemed to grow out of her skin. Her wooden staff, wrapped in flowering vines, clicked softly against the stone floor as she approached. A small leshy—a creature that looked like a walking bundle of leaves—sat on her shoulder, observing the table with bright, curious eyes.
“Aunrae,” Varic said under his breath, leaning back in his chair as the elf approached. “Champion of Terraana.”
Zeroth raised a brow, leaning forward to get a better look at the newcomer. She stopped a few feet from their table, her piercing green eyes locking onto him with unnerving confidence.
“Zeroth,” she began, her voice calm and measured. “Champion of Vulcanix. May I join your table for a moment?”
“Uh…” Zeroth faltered, glancing around the table as if someone else might answer for him. “Sure, I guess? Take a seat.”
Aunrae smiled faintly and pulled out a chair across from Zeroth, her leshy hopping down to sit neatly on the table. She rested her staff beside her and folded her hands in her lap. “You’ve made quite the impression already. Pyronox, your fiery friend here, and of course, your reputation precedes you.”
Zeroth blinked. “Reputation? For what, exactly?”
“Subduing Pyronox rather than destroying him,” she said, nodding toward the now-quiet infernal figure standing behind Zeroth like a guard dog. “It’s not often a champion chooses mercy.”
“Well, that’s nice of you to notice,” Zeroth muttered, scratching the back of his fiery head. “Though I think that decision was more about survival than mercy.”
Aunrae chuckled softly, and the sound seemed oddly soothing in the tense atmosphere. “Still, it speaks to your character. Which brings me to why I’m here.”
She leaned forward slightly, her emerald gaze unwavering. “I am here to formally introduce myself and my alliance. We call ourselves The Verdant Accord. Our purpose is simple: to sever the link between gods and the mortal world once and for all.”
Varic shifted in his seat, exchanging a wary glance with Ardric.
“Sever the link?” Ardric echoed, frowning. “And leave mortals without divine guidance?”
“Mortals do not need gods,” Aunrae replied firmly. “Terraana has shown me that the world is more resilient than we think. The gods meddle too often, shaping the lives of mortals to suit their whims. It’s time for that to end.”
Zeroth narrowed his eyes, gripping his tankard tightly. “And you think you can win a Godswar to make that happen? You do realize the gods themselves are the ones orchestrating this shit, right?”
Aunrae nodded, unperturbed by Zeroth’s tone. “I’m fully aware. Terraana and I are prepared to face the consequences. The Verdant Accord believes that victory is worth any cost. Even if it means taking on the alliances of Morvash and Vulcanix.”
Zeroth groaned internally. “Great. So you’re saying we’re going to have to fight you too.”
“Not necessarily,” Aunrae said, her expression softening slightly. “I came here to extend an olive branch of sorts. While our ultimate goals differ, I believe we can work together for the time being. Morvash’s alliance represents corruption and chaos. Surely we can both agree they are the greater threat.”
Ardric and Varic exchanged uncertain glances. Tingle, meanwhile, was nodding enthusiastically, clearly impressed by Aunrae’s eloquence. Zeroth, however, simply stared at her, his fiery brows furrowed in confusion.
“So… you’re saying we should be allies?” he asked slowly. “But only until we don’t need each other anymore?”
“Exactly,” Aunrae replied, a small smile playing at her lips. “A temporary truce.”
Zeroth scratched his head, accidentally sending a few embers scattering across the table. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean, that sounds smart. I think.”
Aunrae’s smile widened slightly, though it seemed tinged with amusement. “It’s refreshing to see a champion so… straightforward.”
“Yeah, straightforward,” Zeroth muttered, glancing at Varic for reassurance. “That’s definitely what I am.”
This got even more complicated Zeroth thought with a sigh.
Before Aunrae could respond, the leshy on her shoulder hopped down onto the table and made its way toward Zeroth’s tankard. It sniffed at the edge, then looked up at him with an expression that could only be described as judgmental.
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Aunrae said with a chuckle. “He’s a bit of a critic.”
“Of beer?” Zeroth asked, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature.
“Of everything,” Aunrae replied with a shrug. “He’s been with me since I became Terraana’s champion.”
Zeroth stared at the leshy before leaning back in his chair. “Well, little guy, if you’ve got any opinions on how to win a Godswar, I’m all ears.”
The leshy tilted its leafy head, then turned and walked back to Aunrae without a sound. The elf chuckled softly, rising from her seat. “I’ll leave you to think about my proposal, Zeroth. Perhaps we’ll speak again before the war begins.”
As Aunrae rose to leave, Zeroth leaned forward, resting his massive arms on the table. “Wait. Before you go, what can you tell us about Ralgar and Morvash’s alliance?”
Aunrae paused, turning back with an unreadable expression. Her grip tightened slightly on her staff. “Ralgar is… peculiar. He wasn’t originally Morvash’s champion. That title belonged to—”
“The Three Heads of the Sanctum,” Zeroth interjected, his voice carrying an edge of unease.
The sudden intrusion seemed to catch Aunrae off guard, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the dwarf. Zeroth felt a chill crawl up his spine, despite the flames coursing through him.
“Yes,” Aunrae confirmed after a moment. “It would appear it's the same Three Heads you defeated. Word of that event reached far beyond the mortal plane, Zeroth. Morvash poured centuries of corruption into those sorcerers. Their loss was… a significant blow to her plans. Ralgar is the result of her desperation to recover. He is not a champion chosen from strength or wisdom. He is a weapon forged from the remnants of Morvash’s will, twisted by her essence into something… darker.”
Tingle, who had been unusually quiet during Aunrae’s explanation, suddenly perked up. Zeroth noticed his gaze fixed on the far end of the banquet hall, where Ralgar and his alliance sat. The gnome’s normally whimsical demeanor was replaced with something sharper, more intense. A faint glow seemed to flicker in his eyes, the kind that hinted at untapped power.
“Tingle?” Zeroth asked, his voice low. “You alright?”
The gnome didn’t respond immediately, his gaze unwavering as he watched the kobold at the other table. Finally, he muttered, “Tingle remembers the Sanctum. Tingle helped end it. Tingle thought that was the end of that hell”
Aunrae tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her face. “So you were part of that as well, gnome? No wonder you've kept Ralgar's attention. Morvash might have noticed you too.”
Tingle’s expression hardened, his usual cheer replaced by something uncharacteristically grim. “Tingle doesn’t like when bad things come back. It means Tingle didn’t finish the job.”
Zeroth reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Tingle’s shoulder, the weight of his massive godform making the gesture heavier than intended. “We’ll handle it, Tingle. Don't worry.”
Aunrae regarded them for a moment, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Perhaps there’s hope for your alliance after all. Morvash’s corruption runs deep, but it seems you’re no strangers to cleansing darkness.”
“Yeah, well,” Zeroth muttered, leaning back in his chair, “we’ve got plenty of experience dealing with corrupt messes.”
Aunrae chuckled softly. “Indeed. But tread carefully, Zeroth. Ralgar is not the same as the Three Heads. He is something worse. Something desperate.”
She inclined her head once more before turning to leave, her leshy hopping back onto her shoulder. As she walked away, Zeroth exchanged a worried glance with Ardric and Varic. Tingle, meanwhile, remained fixated on Ralgar, his hands clenched tightly as if holding himself back.
“I don’t like this,” Zeroth muttered. “Not one bit.”
“You and me both,” Varic replied, his half-elven features grim. “But we’ll be ready.”
Zeroth glanced across the room at the shadowy figure of Ralgar, who seemed to sense the attention and turned his glowing eyes toward their table. For a brief, chilling moment, their gazes locked, and Zeroth felt a familiar unease stir in his chest.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “We’ll be ready.”